Reactionary
by Blue Buick R
Summary: Megatron is determined to keep Starscream out of trouble, even if it means spending their time off together. It doesn't turn out so well.


Title: Reactionary

Rating: PG

Summary: Megatron is determined to keep Starscream out of trouble, even if it means spending their time off together. It doesn't turn out so well.

Notes: Written for crimson_optics July challenge, the prompt being "day off"

Starscream was not liked, but he was popular. He was loud, brash, fearless in the face of authority and wielded enough charisma to make these qualities appear appealing to the wrong type of mech. He was also condescending, narcissistic, and treacherous; traits not quite so appealing but to his cohorts eminently fascinating even while engendering distaste. King troublemaker.

It was therefore not surprising to Megatron when he received a report that the flyer was holding court in the commissary with a rabble of unruly hangers on. Such gatherings were becoming the norm and not something Megatron felt he could abide. As he was well aware a troublemaker with free time could be a nuisance; a popular troublemaker with a following could become a threat.

Decision made he headed for the commissary, easily picking out his target seated at a large table in the corner. Grin sharp and optics bright Starscream sat surrounded by a group of chattering bots, content in his domain.

"Starscream", he barked, not bothering to move from the entranceway.

All conversation abruptly ceased and the only sound filling the room was the whir of cooling fans and the creak of ill maintained joints. Starscream himself turned from his discussion, smirk smearing into a sneer as he faced his master.

"Come and join us Megatron," he called back, indicating the table and mess of empty or partially empty energon cubes littering its surface. "You above us all deserve to relax on this day of rest."

Megatron fought to keep a chuckle from bubbling forth as he watched the unease flit across the faces of the table's other occupants at the invitation. It would almost be worth it to accept only to watch them squirm as he took up a place amongst them. Terrorizing the rank and file, however, was not why he had come.

"Perhaps another time," he replied. Let them chew on that! "Starscream," he called once more, turning to leave, "attend me!"

He did not bother to wait for the outrage, whether real or feigned, which he knew would accompany such an order, but quickly strode forward down the corridors to his suite. Starscream would follow he had no doubt, if only to give Megatron a piece of his mind.

As predicted it was not long before he heard footsteps hurrying to catch up, and a moment later Starscream appeared abreast of him.

"Attend me?" the seeker shrieked. "Attend me? You're not lord of Cybertron yet Megatron, what do you think gives you the right to talk to me like that in front of the others, and on a rest day at that?"

Megatron scowled. "You pledged yourself to me did you not?"

Starscream huffed in agreement.

"Then while I might not be lord of Cybertron…yet, I am YOUR lord! You will do as I bid and I don't give a microbit what your band of rejects think."

"And what does my lord bid?" he asked, voice pitched sickeningly sweet, even while his optics burned.

Stopping at the door to his quarters Megatron punched in the access code, his bulk keeping the sequence away from prying eyes.

"As this is a day of rest," he explained as the door swished opened, "and I have no bouts scheduled I require some routine maintenance and buffing. You will attend to these matters."

Completely flabbergasted Starscream stood frozen in the corridor while Megatron moved into his room. He recovered quickly, his visage shifting into derision, but did not make a move to follow Megatron inside.

"Do I look like a maintenance drone to you?" he demanded, hands on his hips.

Giving him a blatant and assessing once over from pede to helm Megatron kept his voice cool. "You don't want to know what you look like to me."

Crossing further into the room he took a seat in a large chair, a small table sitting nearby with a minor patch kit and variety of polishing implements, forcing Starscream to trail along behind to continue his tirade.

"I have rudimentary medical knowledge at best," he continued his argument once he was inside the room and the door closed behind him. "Why don't you go to the arena medical staff?"

Megatron tossed his head. "And have any wound, minor though it may be, scanned and recorded and no doubt the knowledge sold to whichever of my opponents can afford to pay for the advantage! Don't be a fool!"

"What makes you think I won't sell the information?" Starscream asked slyly. "Or even give it away for free!"

"And possible rob you of the opportunity to take me down yourself some day? Highly unlikely."

The other mech tilted his head to concede the point. "Still, to let me so close to you, to see your weaknesses, you must trust me a great deal then."

"I don't trust you at all, that's why you're here."

Confusion clouded the dark face, morphing into annoyance as the flyer failed to comprehend his reply.

"What do you want me to do?" he demanded, storming over to loom in front on Megatron's casually sprawled form.

"Simply do a thorough examination for any cracks or fissures, patch whichever my self repair can't quickly handle and buff any major scuffs."

Twisting his mouth in distaste Starscream refrained from commenting further and stepped closer, almost between Megaton's slightly played legs, to reach for the gladiator's head, tilting it toward him none too gently to begin his inspection.

"Hmm," he hummed from above after a moment or two. "Not even a dent. Not surprising considering what a thick head you have."

"You can dispense with the commentary," Megatron growled, into Starscream's cockpit.

The clever hands moved from his head down to his right shoulder where he knew a deep scrape could be found. Starscream fingered the scratch and tisked.

"How did you manage that?" he asked as he stretched to the side to reach for an abrasion strip from the side table.

"A glancing blow from an obsidian chip mace," he recalled while Starscream rubbed at the scrape with the strip, smoothing out the surface before switching to a soft rag and some polish.

Another few swirls with the polish and Starscream stood back with a slap of the cloth to his thigh, a critical eye assessing his work. "It'll have to do," he declared. "Now I know why you choose such dull colours. Any little scuff would show ten times worse on a brighter palate."

"And you wanted to fight," Megatron reminded him. "Imagine what you would have looked like if I'd let you!"

Starscream tossed his shoulders back, wings flared. "Exactly as I do now, they never would have laid a hand on me."

"That kind of confidence can be deadly, Starscream," he cautioned.

"Yes," his companion agreed, "for the other guy."

Deciding to let that last statement go, Megatron leaned back into his chair and motioned for the flyer to continue.

Bending down to look over Megatron's arms and upper chestplate Starscream paused at the juncture between his upper arm and torso, leaning forward until his nose almost touched the joint.

"You have what looks to be the beginnings of a stress fracture here. I can patch it and if you don't do any heavy lifting or jar it too violently for the next while your self repair should seal it up."

"Get on with it then!" he snapped. He would have to be careful during his next few fights and avoid a blow to the area. Not impossible, but inconvenient.

"No need to get testy," Starscream snapped back, snatching up the patch kit. "I am doing you a favour after all."

"You're doing what I ordered you to do," Megatron reminded him. "Do not try to make this out to be some good deed for which I owe you!"

"And why not?" Starscream spat, flinging the kit to the floor in a fit of pique. "If you wanted altruistic adulation over this scrap heap you call a frame why didn't you ask one of your disgusting little peons!"

"Because it would entirely defeat the purpose," Megatron informed him smartly.

"Which is what exactly?"

"To humiliate you."

Starscream did not explode, in fact he did not utter ad single sound; instead his optics narrowed, he cycled a heavy gust through his vents and his mouth pursed into a narrow slit. Crouching down he made to retrieve the patch kit, only to lunge up suddenly vibroblade in hand, arch perfectly aimed to plunge down into the stress fracture.

Megatron was ready for him. The words were meant to goad the seeker and so long as he was so predictable in his reactions he could be controlled and directed to Megatron's purposes. He intercepted the vibroblade with a crushing grip on Starscream's wrist, the tip of the blade a breath away from the crack in his armour. He gazed down at the weapon in disinterest, the rapid vibrations of the blade buzzing through Starscream's hand and arm and into his own. The pulses were so fast they were barely perceptible but they would have allowed for the blade to pierce the fissure, widen it, and do a great deal of damage.

Tightening his grip further Starscream's wrist began to buckle, the fine wires beneath crimping, and finally the seeker released the knife with a hiss, attempting to jerk himself free of Megatron's hold.

"What did you hope to gain front such foolishness?" he asked, refusing to let go. "It wouldn't have been a killing blow."

"No," Starscream agreed. "But it would have hurt!"

Megaton chuckled, backhanding the seeker hard across the face. Starsream's head whipped to the side, his body attempting to follow, but Megatron's hold jerked any momentum to a halt, sending him to his knees instead.

Starscream slowly twisted his head back to look him in the eyes, features stony, a gash, glowing slightly from welling energon blooming on his cheek.

"Look at that," Megatron smiled, finally letting go of the crushed wrist. "Looks like someone managed to lay a hand on you after all."

End


End file.
